


come and kiss me and let's forget

by bubbiegirll



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst With A Bittersweet Ending, Bittersweet, Brief Mentions Of Vomit, Death, Heartbreak, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, brief mentions of negative coping mechanisms, getting back together then breaking up again, heartbroken!george, little to no fluff, mentions of a toxic relationship, no beta we die like men, sick!clay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28381902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbiegirll/pseuds/bubbiegirll
Summary: perhaps some people's love is just so strong, the universe just isn't ready for it and decides to tear them a part. george now believes that and hopefully, there'll be a time where the universe will side with he and clay, rather than choosing to be against them.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 13





	come and kiss me and let's forget

**Author's Note:**

> this is quite long so strap yourselves in !

love can be toxic, like acid it can burn you and leave you with nasty scares. it can haunt you, damage you, and yet, you always find yourself falling in love time and time again, no matter how many times you tell yourself that you won't allow it to happen ever again. george was fed up with being burned, the scares an ever present haunting reminder, despite not being visible to the naked eye. he had always believed in soulmates; a forever love, but now, he wasn't even sure if love was real, let alone, something to be trusted — love just made you vulnerable in all the worst ways.

in the beginning, things were perfect, and george honestly believed that he had found the one the universe destined for him to be with; then things capsized. the honeymoon phase began to fade and what was once a happy relationship turned into a bitter taste in george's mouth. there were lies — terrible lies, arguments that ended with tears and vibrant handprints imprinted on cheeks. there were bed sheets that smelt of other people, and clothing items that didn't belong to either of them on the floor. their love was no longer sweet and tender, but bitter and callous.

it wasn't long until clay finally broke it off with george, saying that the past year the two had spent together, had been nothing but a: "complete waste of time" before storming out of what george used to deem their forever home. george just stood where he was; cheeks red and eye's puffy, just allowing the delicate pieces of himself to fall to the ground — he couldn't be bothered picking them up. his eyes continued to burn, and yet, there was no tears; george had run out, and despite knowing that this was bound to happen, the pain was excruciating; he hadn't expected clay to call their moments together a waste, and perhaps it was, george was just too busy swimming in their old blissful memories to notice.

–  
as time pasted, george found himself missing what he had clay had; perhaps it was due to the way they were before toxicity came into play; friends for so many years, lovers for one. it just made him feel so pathetic; to miss someone whom, very clearly, did not miss you. george had clay on all of his social media, so he could see what he was putting up — flaunting his brand new lover. george didn't care much for who clay's new lover was, not knowing much about them, only that they referred to clay as 'dream' because of how dreamy he was, and george couldn't help but cringe.

instead of finding healthy ways to sooth his never ending pain, he turned to drinking and seeking comfort in the arms of strangers that were strangely similar to a dirty-blond-beauty; it never worked though as he always found himself comparing to how it was with clay: drinking alone was boring, whilst with clay it was exuberating. sex with strangers was lustful, but with clay it was exhilarating. life was dull, though with clay it was... cordial. perhaps it was this; his ever present longing for clay, or perhaps it was the alcohol that bubbled within him, but he felt zero regret when he finally plucked up the courage to message him, instead, he felt the familiar warm sense of nostalgia as past memories with clay hit him in waves.

clay on the other hand felt his stomach drop as he saw george's message appear in his screen. he read it over, and over, again until the illuminated screen faded back to black, though it was still burned into his mind: "i still think about you".

if clay was being honest, he would've said the he also missed george, alas he was stubborn. he wanted to message george back; apologise for everything — allowing their beautiful relationship to convert into one that could been deemed as fragile and toxic. apologise for breaking his promise on never being the one that would be behind his saddened tears. he wanted to apologise for making it seem as if he had moved on, when in reality, he was still hung over george. natheless, he was pertinacious and instead messaged back a hostile: "there's no point when i don't think about you".

clay hated himself for lying, for telling george that he didn't think about him, when his beautiful, bright doe eyes, velvet, creamy-coloured, skin and luscious brown hair, were the only thing that would plaque his mind, his thoughts. however, instead of telling george all this, he went and fucked his boy toy instead; trying his hardest not to imagine george being the one to lie beneath him.

–  
george didn't know what it was, but something was compelling him to leave their– his! his house. after receiving that message from clay, george just shut down: he refused to eat, he didn't leave his house and declined calls from his friends and family. nothing felt real and people began to wonder if george had just been a figment of their imaginations; a mass hysteria, as they slowly lost contact with him. george, however, was too far into his mind to realise that people were gradually forgetting him, though it wasn't his fault. his place, his home, was beginning to smother him; choke him, thick with past saccharine memories; he couldn't breath, it was like he was drowning and he was in desperate need of air, so he decided that freeing himself from this hellhole for a few moments, and going for a walk, seemed to be the best thing to do.

as soon as he stepped outside, he couldn't help but sigh in contentment. the air was clear; crisp and clean, a juxtaposition to the air in which surrounded his house, and for the first time, in a long time, he felt weightless; free. walking through his local park, he felt himself appreciating the earth's beauty and everything that it had to offer, and as he sat down on a park bench; face up towards the sky, feeling the suns warm rays hitting his face, he finally felt at peace; he had found his place in the world. though, that was until a shadow loomed over, and as george opened his eyes, he truly wished that he had just stayed home and suffocated.

seeing him after so long hurt, he felt as if he had been thrown back in time; all those months ago, back to that faithful night. george couldn't help but close his eyes, hoping, praying, that this was all just a dream; he would wake up in his cold and empty bed and he could go on with his sad life. though when he opened his eyes, his breath got lodged in his throat as he made eye contact with him, and as he looked into his murky, yellow eyes, he couldn't help but wish he had the ability to see the colour green. though, as he got lost their eyes, he couldn't help but ask: "what do you want?" only to be met with radio silence.

george just shook his head and muttered "clay, i can't do this– not now, not ever-".

clay was quick to cut him off, whispering gently, a small: "how are you still so beautiful".

george stood up from where he was sitting; legs threatening to collapse beneath him as he struggled to stand up. gripping at his hair, he shook his head violently. everything was excruciating; seeing his face, fuck, even hearing his voice, was too much for george, to the point in was scared that he was going to have a breakdown. how dare he– how dare clay feel as if he had the audacity to say those kinds of things to george after everything that they had been through.

with a small voice, george spoke "clay don't– don't say that".

to george, seeing clay again was a pain he could only match with what it would be like to drown in acid; feeling the toxic burn fill your lungs, melting them, pain engulfing you as your body ever so slowly became one with the toxic sludge. though to clay, it was a completely different story. to clay, seeing george was like breathing fresh air. it was like listening to a song you listened to as a child; the feeling of nostalgia and the pure bliss that came with it.

clay just smiled, wanting nothing more than to reach out and caress george cheeks; soothe him, but he knew that, that was forbidden — he wasn't allowed to touch george, so he settled for saying "but it's true george, you are" only to be cut off my said person.

"i'm what, clay, i'm fucking what?" george spoke angrily; looking up to make eye contact with clay, hoping that he could see the pure vexation that bubbled deep within him; pooling in his eyes.

"ethereal" clay spoke softly, almost breathlessly, and george swears he felt the world pause for just a moment.

"clay, i-" george just shook his head, swallowing the sentence he wished to speak, deciding that it just wasn't worth it and would only cause them more issues, and instead said quietly: "you have a boyfriend".

"but they're not you" clay spoke effortlessly, ever so slightly holding his hand out, inviting george to come and hold it, and as much as george wanted to do that, he knew that the world would be against it.

george wanted nothing more than to touch clay; lay his hands on ever part of his body, to trace his freckles and kiss the scars he had accumulated over the years. he wanted nothing more than to feel clay's hands wonder carelessly over his frail body; feeling every dip and curve. he wanted to feel clay's teeth nip at him; discolouring his skin, bruising him, marking him. he wanted to feel his lips lightly touch the vulnerable parts of his body, leaving him breathless; gasping for air... he wanted clay but clay wasn't his to have.

"clay, please" george pronounced, tears now threatening to fall; afraid that they very well might.

he felt clay step closer to him; being able to smell his cologne, the very same one that george had brought him for his birthday, a month before they broke up. his body screamed at him to back away, to run back home and cry, though his mind told him to step closer; to drink in clay's warmth just one more time and experience exactly what he has been longing for all this time.

"george, you know i'd choose you, if you'd let me" clay whispered, hand still stretched out; yearning to feel george's touch.

"we're not good for one another," george breathed as he felt his lungs threaten to collapse. everything was just too much; seeing clay, hearing his voice and being able to smell his cologne, it burned and george was afraid that there wouldn't be scares this time, instead it would engulf him. "we're toxic" he finished, making direct eye contact in hopes that clay could see exactly what he was doing to him.

"george-" clay started, but george just wasn't having it.

"no clay, i'm not letting you do what you did to me– to us! to him, he doesn't deserve that" george could hear the breaks in his voice as he spoke louder. tears were streaming down his face and he wanted nothing more than to just run– run so very far away; away from clay and everything that he represented.

"i'll leave him" clay spoke, now standing in front of george; towering over him, as he peered deep into george's deep brown eyes, watching the sadness roll over them like waves; the way they sparkled from the tears that streamed down his face, and clay couldn't help but think about how pretty george looked right now.

"you don't-" george looked away, licking his lips, as he tried his hardest to keep his heart steady. eye contact with clay was too much; a dreaded reminder of when the two would hold one another close, eyes locked together, as they both reached their climax- "you don't mean that".

"i do, i'll leave him, because i believe that our souls were created just to be together, george. it's supposed to be you and i, it's the way the universe intended it to be" speaking above a whisper, clay reached his hand up to cup george's cheek, caressing it carefully with his thumb as he hooked his other hand underneath george's chin, lifting his head up, so george would meet his eyes.

the intimacy between the two made george weak; weak to his knees. clay's touch felt like fire, it burned him; hurt him, and yet it was a welcoming warmth. he hated the way it sent pleasant tingles throughout his body, making him feel as if he was high on cloud9. he couldn't speak, all of his senses felt as if they had been heightened. his heart was racing a million miles per hour and any air that had sunk deep within him, had escaped leaving him breathless. george hated the fact that after such a long time, clay still had this affect on him. he tried to grab at his hand; remove it from his face so he could finally breath again, but as soon as his hand touched clay's all he could think about was how warm it was, and so he kept his hand there, closing his eyes in hopes of staying in the moment forever.

"you're not allowed to say those kind of things" george couldn't help but whisper; scared that he would damage the moment.

clay was busy drinking in the moment; savouring george's touch on his hand and the euphoria it brought him. his voiced hush, he responded with: "you're allowing me to say them".

"i wish i wasn't; they're damaging to hear" as damaging as the words were though, george wanted to hear more of them; wanting to taste them on clay's tongue and the sweetness that would accompany them. george supposed that's why he leaned more and more into clay's touch and the fiery burn that came with it, no matter how much he wanted to pull himself away.

"darling," clay started, removing his hand from george's cheek to run his fingers delicately through george's hair; falling in love with the way it would wrap itself around his fingers "you say it as if that's a bad thing".

george took a deep breath in; relishing the way it swirled within him, calming him down. licking his lips, he mumbled: "because it is". what clay was going to him was a bad thing; the things he was doing and the stuff he was saying, was forbidden. what ever was billowing between them, was only going to turn toxic, and george wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle losing clay for a second time.

"george, i believe the universe fights for souls to be together" clay began, removing his hand from george's hair, to rest it on the back of his neck, pulling him in close; close to the point they were breathing in one another's air. as clay licked his lips, he couldn't help but stare down at george's and the way the parted; wanting nothing more that to lock them with his own "i believe that it would fight for ours" he finished, using all of his will power to look away from george's lips and make eye contact with him instead.

george couldn't help but ask: "and if it doesn't" as he felt the two of them tread into dangerous waters.

clay just smiled, one sick with love, as he spoke softly: "that wouldn't matter because i'd always choose you; no matter the language, no matter the reality... i'll choose you".

"and yet you chose him" george spoke harshly, dismissing the blush that had found it's way onto his cheeks, highlighting them a pretty pink that clay had always adored.

"and i regret that" clay said carefully, hoping that his words would soothe george somewhat; give george an insight that he would always be the one for clay, no matter what the circumstances may be.

"really?" george asked quietly, trying his hardest not to fall gullible to clay's words, despite wanting to deem them to be oh so true.

clay nodded, a gentle smile still stretched out across his cheeks "you're the person i think about daily; the person i dream of... not them. that must mean something".

once again, george wanted nothing more than to label clay's words the truth, but he couldn't help but think back to clay's message "but your message; you said that you didn't reciprocate".

"you wouldn't have let me say what i wanted to" responded clay. he knew that, that message would come back to bite him in the butt, alas, he said it anyway. he couldn't turn back the clock, but he could apologise if george let him "will you let me apologise for what i said?".

"i don't know, clay... i don't know" george felt as if he were choking on his words. of course he would forgive clay, he just wasn't ready to voice that yet, he didn't want to get hurt again and as silence fell upon the two, george couldn't help but say: "you don't know that; i might've allowed you".

clay perked up at that. "you're right, i don't know" and as he held both of his hands on either side of george's face in a diaphanous hold, he whispered: "george. would you allow us to have one more chance before we allow the sun to set".

as much as george wanted to say yes; agree to the two of them having a second chance at love, he could only think about how dangerous the out come might be if the two ended in toxicity yet again. settling upon asking: "what if we get hurt again?".

clay just laughed at george's cautiousness, wondering how a once careless man could end up so careful "then we'll wrap ourselves in bandages" faux annoyance laced within his words. 

however george couldn't help but wonder if that would ever be enough; things ended terribly for them the first time, hidden scares and bad memories to prove it, who's to say that, that won't happen the second time around? "what if they're not enough" george asked, scared shitless of being hurt to the point there was no point in recovery.

"they will be, because, i believe in us" clay said, and george swears he say clay's smile grow the tiniest bit wider.

"you believe in a lot of things" george spoke in utter stupefaction on how one man could believe in so many things.

"when it comes to you and i" clay started, leaning in so close, he could feel george's breath hit his lips "i believe in everything".

george could only scoff at clay's childishness, mockingly speaking: "even the impossible?".

only for clay to respond with: "especially the impossible".

at this point, george was starting to believe that what clay was saying was real, though vigilance still swam deep within in him. he didn't want to say no, oh fuck how he didn't want to say no, but he had to remember that clay wasn't a free man "what about him?".

"forget about him!" amusement finding it's way to mix itself into clay's words.

"well, can i think about it then?" george asked quietly, fearful that clay would think that he had rejected him.

clay, however, spoke gently with a smile: "for as long as you want; i'll still be here" pulling away ever so slowly to finally give george some space.

all george could do was lick his lips and mutter out a weak: "ok" before turning around and walking away.

–  
when george got home, all he could do was sigh. he already knew his answer, he just didn't believe in half of what clay said to be true. he missed clay with absolutely everything his body had to offer and wanted nothing more than to jump straight back into his open arms; he just took what he said with a grain of salt. what of the burns were worse this time? he still has some that haven't heal; others that probably won't ever. what if clay lied about leaving the other guy, only for george to become something on the side. he was thrown for a fault, so many 'what if's' bouncing around in his brain, and although the loneliness that surrounded him was intoxicating, he knew clay had the power to subjugate it and that terrified him.

though there were parts of him that couldn't help but counterbalance all of the negatives: the possibility of thing's turning out wonderful to the point the two could end up with a family of their own; the history they could write together, was so beautiful george couldn't ignore it. maybe it was the thought of settling down; building a home with someone you love, but he couldn't help but message clay the simple, yet tenderhearted sentence: "you are mine as much as i am yours".

george once again sighed and the atmosphere, that used to leave him gasping for air, suddenly turned clear and george couldn't help but think that maybe what clay said about the universe fighting for them was true; that said belief hardening when he saw clay's message come through: "it's heavenly to have you back, my angel".

reading that message time and time again; feeling the bloom of warmth spread across his face, he finally realised what it meant to be in deep; to be drunk off of someone. perhaps that's the reason george responded with: "meet me?"

clay's messaged came through not long after, nothing more than a simple: "where?"

replying back with: "here, there, anywhere. it doesn't matter, i just need you with me" george wondered if clay could feel his desperation.

when george didn't get a message back within a few minutes, he jumped to the conclusion that everything had just been a sick joke; one last kick at george whilst he was already down. taking deep breaths in, he hoped that they'd sooth his racing heart; put him at ease, as he grew more and more anxious as time dragged on. nearly falling into temptations held of throwing his phone, he felt it shake in his hand; weight suddenly added to it as he held his breath, wondering if a message from clay had come through. he didn't want to check, but oh how needed to see.

"i'll come to you": a simple sentence and yet sparked so much emotion within george; swirling around, enveloping him. it made it difficult to breath, to function, and yet he welcomed it with open arms — as suffocating as it was, he couldn't help but see it as breath of fresh air.

taking a deep breath in, george responded: "you would?" wanting nothing more than to be in that close proximity with clay again.

almost straight away, clay's message popped up: "for you? anything. where can i find you?".

"our old home; i never moved out" turning off his phone, george sighed. how would clay feel knowing that george never left; beleaguered by their former love - insomnia aching deep within his bones, tugging at his muscles, as he lied awake at night, wondering why never left, and he supposed it was because he was scared of whom he would be without the empty presence of clay.

he say at the corner of his eye, his phone screen illuminate, looking over at it, he saw that clay had messaged him back an unembellished: "wait for me?".

and all george could answer with has a tender: "always".

–  
it seemed like a fever dream to george; having the two of them both inside their once forever home, sitting on the couch together. it felt wrong, and yet, unequivocally right at the same time. everything felt almost nostalgic and george had to stop himself from falling deep within his memories of he and clay. when clay finally arrived, george could feel the tension rise between them; so many thing wanting to be said and so many actions wanting to be done, just fizzled into the air. the two had made small talk, but for the most part, couldn't keep their eyes of one another. george was afraid that if he dare blinked, clay would fade away into the welkin and all of this would've just been a crucifying daydream.

the deafening silence was beginning to become to much for clay. he spiting the fact that he allowed tension and discomfiture to sprout around them; their love, once a bed of roses, morphed into a thorn bush "...so you never left" he spoke with uncertainty as he was unsure on how to properly break the silence.

george shook his head "i just couldn't" he started, scrambling his brain to find the right words to put together "it was almost like i was scared of losing you, like, everything was just some prolonged, malicious, bad dream, that i would finally wake up from and you would be there, right beside me".

clay was at a lost for words, taking a deep breath in as he muttered: "i would've come running; had you called".

george was taken back by that. 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘦, he couldn't help but think to himself as he thought about the message he had sent clay all those months ago "yet you didn't when i first messaged you".

"believe me, i wanted to" clay spoke quietly; guilt bubbling within him.

"wanting to do something, and actually doing something, clay," said george, not even trying to hid the subtle hostility that had laced itself within his words "are two very different things".

softly, clay whispered: "i know that now" as he peered deep into george's rich, sepia eyes.

and although george believed clay, that didn't stop him from asking: "do you?" as he fixated in on clay's caliginous, yellow eyes, wondering what it would be like had he been able to see the colour green.

"well, i'm here aren't i?" clay continued to whisper, endearment intertwining itself with clay's words.

matching clay's tone, george whispered back: "yeah, you are" and any tension that circled the two of them had diminished.

silence had fallen upon them once again, and george was honestly surprised that he was still able to breath. he wanted to break the silence; voice everything that he ever wanted to say to clay, he just couldn't find the words to form them. he supposed clay was in the same boat as it looked like he wanted to speak whatever plagued his mind, though as clay was about to open his mouth, george's cat —their old cat— walked in demanding to be fed.

"just a minute, baby" spoke george, fondly, as he looked down at the animal.

"she's grown; not a little one anymore. do you think she remembers me?" clay asked, stretching his hand out towards the cat, only for it to walk mast him and follow george into the kitchen.

george shrugged his shoulders "it's been years, i'm not sure".

clay shook his head "it has not been years" amusement clear in his voice as he tried not to laugh at how dramatic george was being; trailing behind the cat to then lean against the kitchen counter.

sighing, george whispered under his breath: "well it's felt like an eternity" crossing his fingers that clay hadn't heard him.

expect he had; clay heard every syllable that left george's mouth and it made his heart flutter, unable to stop himself as he whispered back in a similar soft tone: "it's been an eternity for me too".

george stopped in his tracks, completely stopping what he had been doing, and sighed with a shaky voice before turning to face clay, only to see his yellow-tinted-eyes staring back at him; filled with adoration. it made george feel naked, vulnerable and at that exact moment, he despised being colourblind more than anything. breathlessly, george whispered: "kiss me".

as if on autopilot, clay made his way over to george; holding his face in the palms of his hands before kissing him passionately. hands were tangled in hair; coiled around fingers. tongues fighting for dominance as saliva dripped down their chins; bodies submerged in heat. breathing was vital, but as the two pulled away, they only deemed it to be an inconvenience. cheeks were flushed a deep red and eyes were clouded with lust; chests moving quickly as they tried to catch their breaths, and maybe it was the lack of oxygen making his brain foggy; thoughts incoherent, but george couldn't stop himself from pulling clay in for another deep kiss.

picking george up, clay placed him down on the kitchen counter, pushing himself in between george's legs as they wrapped around his waist; pulling him in closer. detaching himself from george's lips, he moved his way down to george's neck; biting and sucking on the skin, until the pale surfaced turned a pretty purple — drinking in the sweet taste of george's skin on his tongue; savouring it. the euphoria george felt was intoxicating; breathy moans escaping him as he felt clay gentle blow air on a freshly made love bite. his eyes rolled back into his head, grinding down hard on clay: loud moans escaping the both of them.

nibbling george's earlobe, clay whispered: "baby, if you keep acting like that, i won't be able to handle myself".

george moaned softly before grabbing onto clay's face delicately, to look him in the eye, whispering: "don't handle yourself"; making clay smirk.

as clay grabbed the back of george's neck. he moved in close; being able to taste george's breath on his lips, the distance almost closed, only to be interrupted by the cat, crying loudly as they demanded to receive their food. clay couldn't help but laugh as george groaned; burying his face deep within clay's collarbone.

"cockblocked by the cat" amusement clear in clay's voice as he spoke.

face still pressed into clay's collarbone, his voice was muffled as he spoke "nothing new".

although that rubbed clay the wrong way, he knew he had no reason to be jealous, but, that didn't stop it from brewing deep within.

–  
days had pasted and the two had fallen into a routine: wake up, limbs intertwined, george being the first to pull away in order to go make the two breakfast, as well as, go feed that cat. after that, he would go and wake clay up, placing soft kisses on his freckles, whispering sweet nothings. the two would then eat breakfast together, rambling about the most obscure things. it was sweet; domestic, and george couldn't help but melt at the thought of them doing this until death came knocking at their door.

after breakfast, clay would head home, sort some stuff out over there, before heading back to george's where they would then cuddle up on the couch, taking the mick out of whatever shit was being aired at the time. dinner time would roll around and as george paced up and down the kitchen, clay would watch him with exaltation. they would eat dinner together, silencing coating them as they just stared at the other; drinking in their presence, before going to bed; making love until they were on the brink of passing out, besmeared in sweat — falling asleep wrapped in each others arms, swimming in the warmth.

though one night, george awoke to the sound of dry heaving coming from his en-suite. upon rushing in, he's greeted with the sight of clay holding his head over the toilet bowl; vomit spilling out from the corner of his mouth. dropping down beside him, george gentle played with clay's hair hair; raking it with his fingers in hopes of it aiding him slightly — holding it back whenever clay would empty the contents of his stomach. as clay finished, he ran a soothing hand up and down his back before kissing his forehead softly.

"do you think you can brush your teeth?" george asked in a gentle tone, only for clay to shake his head — george taking the initiative to brush clay's teeth for him.

–  
"are you feeling alright now?" george asked the following morning. after the incident, the two crawled back into bed, george trying to sooth clay in any way possible.

clay nodded "still a bit queasy; i'll be fine".

"you sure?" george pressed; concerned for clay's health.

clay's breath left him: george was worried about him? "yeah, i probably just ate something bad".

𝘸𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, george wanted to say, though deciding it would be for the best if he held his tongue instead, despite being a little suspicious. 

the clocked ticked, day's passing, time forever moving forward, and george was began to suspect that clay wasn't eating 'bad food'; there was something seriously wrong: becoming a frequent occurrence that george would awake to the sound of clay throwing up, and if george even dared press clay about the matter, the two would end up in a poisonous argument. every time that they would argue, george felt as if he was being thrown into an acid pool that was the past; toxicity that used to consume he and clay coming back to haunt them.

he longed for things to go back to normal, though he felt as if this was their normal: scaring words and harmful tones, hand printed body parts and tear stained cheeks. voices rough from screaming and headaches triggered from loud crashes as objects were thrown. he wanted things to be peaceful, compassionate, solicitous, though he knew that, that could only ever occur in his dreams; reality would never treat him so kindly. perhaps dreams we for the privileged, rather than the suffering - perhaps the same went for love, as when george awoke to the sound of birds singing, for the first time in a long time, he knew that, that was a sign that clay had left. opening his eyes, he noticed a single piece of paper lying where clay once was; bed sheets cold to the tough, though they still smelt of him. as he looked at the letter, he read:

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.  
𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘴.  
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳.  
𝘪 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.  
𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 — 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦.

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦,  
𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘹

and as much as he didn't want to, he couldn't help but cry, what else was he to do?  
clay knew george didn't have a lot of patience, mayhap that's why he told him to wait — he knew that george couldn't.

–  
days morphed into months and before george knew it, it had almost been a year since he had last heard from clay; everyday being more of a struggle that the last, and george was beginning to drown under the weight of his emotions, to the point he felt as if he had reached his end.

doing his regular, everyday things, more so moping around, george's phone rang. beside himself on whether or not he should pick it up, his finger accidently pressed the accept button.

"hello, is this george smith?" a feminine voice asked "i'm calling from the royal smp hospital, you were listed as an emergency contact for a certain clay jones"

george felt himself freeze; heart coming to a stop. answering with a small: "yes, this is he, what happened?", he could help but think of clay's letter, which he kept in his bedside table; reading it when ever he missed him. he recalled on how clay wrote that he hoped that time would be on their side — george suspected that time would never stand by them.

"oh good, sir, if you could please, urgently, make your way here, clay has rushed in not long ago — his condition has worsen" the voice spoke cautiously.

"h-his condition?" george stuttered, 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬?

"stage 4 cancer".

-  
everything after that was a blur; rushing out of his house and getting into his car. it was all so hazy, george hadn't even realised that he had reached the hospital. when it clicked, he got out of his car as quick as he could; racing to the receptionist.

"i'm here to see clay jones: i'm his emergency contact" george sighed, raking his hand through his hair in hopes of calming himself down.

"oh, of course, george was it? well if you could please sign these" the person spoke gently, as they slid some paperwork george's way "then head for the oncology area and follow the medical area signs; should be room 404".

george just nodded his head; grabbing one of the blue ballpoint pens that sat in a wired pen holder. his hand was shaky — letters and words almost incoherent, trying to write as fast as he could so he could make it to clay. george thought back upon the days where he would sit with clay whilst he through up; guilt brewing deep in his chest — had he done something earlier, maybe they wouldn't be here... finished with the papers, he pushed them back to the person before speeding down the halls.

all the areas and room numbers looked the same; a never ending maze filled with sick, dying people, but when he finally fund clay's room, a heavy sigh escaped him. 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬; 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥? he needed courage - needed to be strong for clay, though he wasn't sure if he could be. fear ebbed and flowed through him; creeping in his bones, though he knew that if he didn't walk into that room, he was going to regret it. opening the door, george's breath got lodged in his throat; bile threating to come up — clay looked nothing like, well, clay: pale skin, in comparison to the tan hue it used to have, body looking awfully skinny, despite clay having used to have a somewhat muscular figure. his once soft dirty-blond hair now mattered, greasy and patchy.

"i didn't want you to see me like this, my dear" clay whispered, eyes partly closed.

tears welling up in his eyes, george croaked out: "why didn't you tell me?".

clay sighed "i couldn't find the right words".

"they didn't have to be the right ones; they just had to be some" george said, anger being to show through his tone.

"i didn't want to put you through this" clay spoke gently, holding his out to the side for george to come and grab.

walking to the side of clay's bed, he sat down in one of the chairs. grabbing clay's hand, he intertwined their fingers and all george could think about was how cold clay's hands were. george felt guilty — 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨; 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨? the least george could've done for clay was be there for him "you wouldn't of been alone though".

it seems the only words that clay could muster up were a quiet: "i'm sorry".

george only sighed as he tightened his grip on clay's hand "it's ok... will you-".

"no" it was like clay knew what george was going to say and that cut deep: after all this time, clay was still able to read his mind — see his thoughts. "i suppose you being here is the universe pushing us together" he continued, stroking george's hand with the pad of his thumb.

"i suppose you being here is the universe pushing us a part" george retaliated; eyes and cheeks red as clear streams, running down his face, were highlighted it the caliginous hospital lighting.

a pained smile made it's way onto clay's face "touché".

"couldn't you have given me more time with you?" george asked, desperation dripping from his words.

clay shook his head "it would've only been bittersweet moments".

"at least it would've been something" george winced as he heard his voice break; the pain he had held deep within for so long only now spewing out. "how long?" he found himself asking.

clay paused, licking his lips, before muttering out a small: "our first estrangement".

george was taken back, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨? "and you couldn't of told me?" his volume increased slightly, but as he thought back on their previous moments, everything kind of clicked, and george felt terrible for not noticing earlier.

"i wanted to pretend it didn't exist" clay spoke, voice getting weaker by the minute.

george scoffed in disbelief; shaking his head "it doesn't work like that".

clay nodded slowly; the dreaded need to sleep over powering him as he felt his eyelids flutter "i know that now".

"really?" george asked, agony painfully clear in his voice.

"yes" clay said as he closed his eyes; opening them again to glance at george "come and kiss me and let's forget".

george looked him in the eye; appreciating the fact that he was colourblind for the first time as seeing his yellow-tinted iris' made him special — no one had eyes like clay. "why?" he whispered softly, playing with clay's 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 fingers.

clay smiled "it'll make my last moment with you a blissful one".

"you hurt me" george choked out; pain lodged so far down his throat he couldn't swallow.

"and yet you're here" clay started softly, voice hoarse as his personalised clock neared the dreaded zero "love will hurt you, my dear, you just have to hope that you have enough bandages".

"and if i don't?" asked george quietly.

clay paused; licking his chapped lips "then you know where to find me"

george shook his head "i couldn't do that" his voice was incredibly rough, george was scared that it would leave scratch marks on the back of his throat "you couldn't ask me to do that".

"good thing i'm not asking you to then" clay spoke slowly; words slurring "please just kiss me; allow me to feel the sensation of your love one last time".

"i-i can't" george stuttered, aggressively wiping away his tears as he knew clay was close to meeting his demise.

taking shallow, long, breaths, clay muttered out: "why not?".

"it's goodbye" george started "i'm not– i can't... i don't want to say goodbye to you".

clay's grip on george's hand weakened "then think about it as a: 'see you in time', my love".

george could only think of the worse "what if i don't?".

"but you will" clay spoke, voice barely above a whisper as his hand almost slipped out of george's.

"you can't be sure of that" george's tone matching clay's; vision significantly more blurry.

clay closed his eyes "and yet, i am".

george knew it was only a matter of time before he'd lose clay forever — no more possibilities of ever running into him on the street "will you kiss me when i see you next?".

"time and time again" clay's voice so weak; syllables almost incoherent.

george allowed a pain smile to crawl it's way onto his face "promise?".

"pinky"

then chapped lips met chapped lips, and as the beeping turned flat and monotone, george could only hope that clay would keep his promise, and that the empyrean would take care of him, until george saw him again.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m so sorry that this was quite long lmao. also apologies about the ending, it's quite rushed as i tried to get this done in one night and lemme tell you, i was d e a d by the end of it  
> (( also i know it's not the best but i hope you enjoyed (: ))


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